


Periapsis

by flailingthroughsanity



Series: quantum mechanics [2]
Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Angst, Character Study, Coming of Age, Introspection, M/M, Multi, Nostalgia, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 05:22:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9585272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flailingthroughsanity/pseuds/flailingthroughsanity
Summary: Gravity falls, and Howon holds on.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was planning down a worldbuilding fic and somehow this happened lol ok; not exactly a retelling of Holding Onto Gravity - although you'd have a bigger picture of the fic if you read that first - more or less an introspective view into Howon's character.

**PERIAPSIS**  
flailingthroughsanity

* * *

 

Gravity falls, and Howon holds on.

* * *

 

 

 

A hand, pale in the translucent moonlight, points upwards and Howon looks at the fine features, the slender fingers, the impeccable nails.

“Sirius, hyung.” Myungsoo says, and Howon blinks — for a moment, he recalls a similar scenario; a far younger Myungsoo, pointing to the same star, in a different time, a different life. Howon follows the direction the other is pointing, and he sees a bright spot in a blanket of pinpoints.

So you’ll always find your way home, the Myungsoo in his memories had once said.

“So you’ll always find your way home,” Howon says, repeating the words. Myungsoo in the present shifts his eyes to him, and there’s a faint glow of happiness.

“You remembered.” The other says, almost whisperingly, almost reverently.

“We will always remember.” Sunggyu whispers, eyes closed as he breathes out the words, pressed against Myungsoo’s pantleg.

“We’ll never forget.” It sounds like a promise, finality in his words.

And looking at the two others, his best friends, his brothers, two parts of what made him Howon, he promises to himself.

In a world of unkeepable promises, he prays that, for once, he can hold on to this.

∞

Howon doesn’t remember much about his early childhood. To a lot of people, childhood was one of the more important parts in life — and whatever memories you could remember should be cherished. “Life is different when you’re older,” Mr. Lee once said, in the middle of discussing American history. “You grow up, and suddenly, there are a lot more responsibilities. You have less time for yourself, for your friends and for your family — when you’re older, the only thing in your mind is what you can do to make sure your family is taken care of.”

In that class, maybe it was July or November (Howon doesn’t know, doesn’t remember, doesn’t care), with Mr. Lee talking about how important it was to hold on to your childhood, to your memories of your family and friends, Howon’s always kept to himself and wondered. He doesn’t remember his childhood, or his family. He’s not even sure if he had one — but he looks across the seats, and he sees Sunggyu-hyung’s spiky dark hair, nodding along to Mr. Lee’s lecture and he turns to the other side: he sees Myungsoo, half a second away from falling asleep.

Their eyes lock, and Howon feels his lips curl in a gentle smile. Myungsoo blinks, sitting up, smiling back at Howon, and he takes a little too long to stare at the dimple in the younger’s cheek.

“Howon,” He turns, sees Mr. Lee looking at him. He could feel the gazes of the other students eyeing him. “care to share your conversation with Myungsoo to the class?”

He slips a glance at Sunggyu and sees his hyung looking at him in a mixture of amusement and irritation. He bites his lip, shaking his head. He knows Myungsoo did the same, with a face perhaps more flustered than Howon’s.

There are a lot of things Howon doesn’t know, or remember. He’s not the smartest in class — that honor goes to Sunggyu, with his high grades and good memory — but he feels it’s less of how smart he is and more on the things he considers important enough to remember.

Sports were important, that he knows. Mr. Jang always reminded them that a good and fit body made for a good and fit mind. Howon doesn’t really follow Mr. Jang’s thoughts, but that consternation isn’t really his top priority whenever he’s out on the field, gaining the lead in their little soccer games. Funny, things like that used to matter so much to him. He wasn’t a failure in his other subjects, just found them less interesting compared to Mr. Jang’s class. He guesses that he could find the interest in literature with Mr. Nam or history with Mr. Lee — Sunggyu would often go on tirades about his own ideas, his own interpretations of the plays and works Mr. Nam discussed and even though most of his ramblings would go over his (and Myungsoo’s) heads, he finds Sunggyu’s interest and passion in a subject he considers boring to be endearing. And important.

Drama with Mr. Lee Sungjong was a bit livelier compared to Mr. Nam and Mr. Lee Sungyeol’s classes, but Howon still found it less interesting than Sports with Mr. Jang. Howon might consider himself clueless when it came to acting, but he knows that drama was something Myungsoo was surprisingly good at. It was ironic, looking back, Myungsoo was the quieter one out of the trio. He often kept to himself, occasionally slipping in a comment or two that left Howon and Sunggyu laughing or gaping in shock, but for all his silence and quiet contemplation, he was unnaturally talented in pretending to be someone else.

He remembers bringing this subject up once, and Sunggyu didn’t even pause in his reading through Kerouac.

“Maybe he finds it more comfortable to be someone else, to use somebody else’s words,” Sunggyu had said, eyes skimming the pages. Howon sat beside him, feet tapping the wooden floors. Sunggyu hummed in annoyance, his own leg tapping against Howon’s. He stopped, only for his hands to start playing with the old wooden bench they were sitting on. A breeze came into the hall through the windows and Howon could smell something faintly sweet, perhaps the kitchen preparing for their afternoon snack time.

“How is that fun? Myungsoo’s more interesting than the characters he pretends to be.” He answers, and in retrospect, he found it amusing how forthright and honest he used to be about his thoughts and feelings. Sunggyu merely hummed.

“He is, but it’s hard to express your feelings honestly. Sometimes, it’s easier to pretend to feel something else.” There was something subtle in Sunggyu’s voice, something that made Howon turn to his hyung and take in his profile. Sunggyu wasn’t someone you could consider breathtakingly beautiful — that was reserved for their quieter friend — but there was a certain honesty to his looks: in his small eyes, half-lidded as they skimmed through the words, on the slope of his nose and his lips. Howon wouldn’t outright call his friend attractive, but there was something interesting, something charming and magnetic about Sunggyu’s looks.

He finds the directions of his thoughts a little awkward, so he drops the subject and turns to look at the wooden doors.

“Myungsoo’s taking a while.”

“Hmm. Maybe Mr. Lee liked his performance and is giving him pointers.” Sunggyu reasons out, voice distracted. Howon smiles to himself at the thought, feeling proud of their taciturn friend.

The doors open and they both look up, see Myungsoo bow to Mr. Lee and closing the door after himself.

Howon stands, taking in the dark hair, dark eyes and that small smile on his friend’s lips. “Well, how did it go?”

Then Myungsoo’s small smile grows into a grin, wide and full of teeth and that dimple. “Really well.”

And Myungsoo is bounding up to them, laughing and smiling, and Howon can’t stop smiling back, always reciprocating in his friend’s rare moments of outright laughter.

Sunggyu closes his book, sets it on the bench and pats the younger student’s shoulder in congratulations. Myungsoo flushes a faint red and hugs Sunggyu, and Howon finds that endearing, and important.

∞

When his carers, or the nurses, ask him about home — Howon always says the same thing: block forty-eight, Heilsham avenue, Daegu city. His home is a four-story building, with white walls and a huge red cross on the outside, facing the main road. The words “Daegu Specialist Hospital” in big, uppercase letters — glowing white in the nighttime.

Howon knows that it’s not what his carers or the nurses are asking for — and sometimes, Howon feels a little guilty for not being honest about it. He knows they mean well, even the nurses. He knows he’s lucky than most other donors, to be handled by nurses kinder than others get. He knows this — it’s evident in the way they leave more food than standard, sometimes sneaking in a chocolate bar or a serving of ice cream Howon knows they’ve bought from the little stall outside the hospital, the stall he was forbidden by his doctors to eat from. One nurse in particular — her name was Eunji, a bright gummy smile and a local slip of accent in her words — would sometimes sit with him, opening the television and she’d make some off-colour remark and Howon would grin, and laugh.

He knows they’re not asked to do this, to be nice to _them_. He knows because in the last hospital, the nurses treated him indifferently, apathetically. He wasn’t a living, breathing human being to them. He wasn’t someone with a history, a past, a name. His friends, memories and feelings mattered less.

But Eunji is different.

She’s kind, nice and warm and she’s not afraid to respond to Howon’s snark, and maybe this is what endears her to him most of all: that she’s honest with him. He hasn’t had honesty in a long while.

Sometimes, he’d look across the bed and look at Eunji and she’d turn her head, simply smiling at him, no judgement in her eyes. He’d remember then —he’d remember a different time, and in Eunji’s place were two others. He’d remember a taller one, with beautiful features and dark eyes that always felt warmer than cold to Howon, and a quiet smile on his lips. Another, still taller, but livelier — with wit and bark and Howon remembered the joy and the fun of bantering with him, small eyes and snarky smile and a temperament more akin to a whirlwind than to a man.

Myungsoo and Sunggyu.

He’d remember them, remember their faces, the smiles on their lips and he’d close his eyes, letting himself sleep and dream, returning to a time gone, spent.

A home he could no longer come back to.

∞

His childhood summers, as far as he could remember, were times he recalled looking forward to. Summers in Woollim were a little hotter than usual, and the heat in the wooden halls would be too oppressive and distracting for classes. More often than not, his teachers would cut their classes short and allow them to roam around the school.

Many of the students would flock to the field, looking for awnings wide enough to hide under the sweltering heat — happy to be fanned by the cool breeze, the peaceful swaying of the tall grass and the lazy movement of the clouds against a bright blue sky.

In their little group, it was Sunggyu who would lead, always to that one same destination: a clearing between two trees, with branches and leaves large enough to provide ample shade. Sunggyu would sit first, back against the trunk, in his hand a Walkman that he borrowed from the teachers. Myungsoo would sit on the grass, by Sunggyu’s feet, and he’d usually have a book with him. Howon remembered the titles to vary, at best. Sometimes, they would be study books — usually literature; sometimes, they would be fiction novels from the library. Other times, rarer times, it would be comic books he’d secure from some of the students, usually bargained (minor chores, maybe one drama assignment, little things they could do to put value into things they could have honestly just shared, Howon realizes now – much to his amusement). He reads off the front flap, _A History of Astronomy_ , and Howon remembers snorting. Myungsoo was always a little bookish, interested in things not shared by many of their schoolmates.

He would flop beside Myungsoo, leaning against the younger’s shoulder.

“Hyung,” Myungsoo would whine, and Howon smiled – finding the sound incredibly adorable. He wonders when he started attaching feelings to the things he’s noticed Sunggyu and Myungsoo would do, started wondering when he found Sunggyu magnetic, or Myungsoo incredibly ethereal. “get off, you’re heavy.”

“Bite me.” Howon responded, letting himself fall into Myungsoo and felt the other hit his shoulder with the book. Myungsoo whined again, before sighing and angling his body, let Howon fall over him, head on lap, looking up to the younger’s unamused face. “Hey.”

“Get off.” Myungsoo repeated, and if Howon angled his head, he’d realize the other was pouting.

“Nope.” Howon replied, grinning and he didn’t know what to make of the way Myungsoo’s eyes darkened, or the way the other’s gaze shifted from his eyes to his lips. There are a lot of things Howon doesn’t really know, or _want_ to know but he doesn’t mind, allowed himself to look up to his friend’s face.

“Fine.” And Myungsoo proceeded to resume reading, resting the book against Howon’s cheek, intent on ignoring Howon on his lap.

He turned, straining his gaze to look at Sunggyu and see the older student looking at them, headphones resting against his ears, and a contemplative look on his face.

“Hyung,” Howon called out, and Sunggyu looked at him, raising a brow.

“Hyung,” He called again, ignoring the edge of Myungsoo’s book pressing against his cheek. Sunggyu raised his hands, taking one end of the headphone off. “What?”

“What’re you listening to?”

“Something you don’t know.”

A frown. “Come on.”

Sunggyu placed the headphone back in, and closed his eyes, ignoring Howon. He sighed, a little bored, and after moving to make himself more comfortable on Myungsoo’s legs, nose pressed into the younger’s knee, he closed his eyes and let himself relax, hearing the breeze cut through the grass and the chirping of the birds in the trees. In the distance, he could hear the chatter of some of the other students; he’d hear someone playing, another talking – gossiping – and the faint humming from Sunggyu’s end.

He’s a second away from a light doze when he felt something being placed in his ear and his eyes opened just as music followed. A rock song, although quieter than what he usually heard, but there was no mistaking the guitar riffs and the drumbeat. Howon realizes that the edge of the book against his cheek is gone, and turns his head just as Sunggyu rests his on Myungsoo’s lap, dark hair against Howon’s turned face. Myungsoo had raised his book, holding it aloft as he continued to read, unbothered by the weight of two others on his laps.

There’s a thudding in his chest, not like excitement, but something equally close to content. A rhythm that doesn’t stop at his heart, continues to beat a faint drum in his ears. The scent of summer, warm afternoons on dry, grassy fields and something like innocence at the edge of his lips.

∞

“Name?”

Howon sits up straighter, his fists grasping the folds of his jeans tighter. When he answers, his voice is thin and subdued — quieter than he remembers. The man across the table doesn’t seem to notice, eyes on the computer screen, fingers typing out his information. Howon doesn’t know his name, he’s sure the man had said it in introduction but he wasn’t paying attention.  “Lee Howon.”

“Institution?”

“Uh, Woollim.”

The man doesn’t blink at hearing his school’s name, simply nodding and continuing to type it out. Howon chances a gaze around, sees the sterility of the room — the plain white walls, the bright fluorescent lights, the tall cabinets holding what could probably be hundreds and thousands of documents. A cold-looking room, for a cold-looking man. Fitting, he finds it.

The man continues to ask, his age, weight and height. His biodata is on the table, in a document with a lemniscate stamped on top of it. How often do you eat on a daily basis? Do you drink, smoke or take illegal substances? How often do you engage in sexual activities? How often do you exercise?

It was by the book, a standard questioning procedure for new donors.

Somehow, it felt incredibly normal — like a routine check-up with the doctor. Howon doesn’t know how his registration would turn out. He had a lot of ideas in his head, a lot of thoughts and scenarios. He had imagined a lot of different settings — maybe he’d be by himself, maybe he’d be with someone, or with two others. Sometimes, he’d think it would be all three of them, or maybe it would be a whole group — their entire group at the Colonies — a lot of things he had told himself every night, counting the days down until his donations began.

He answers all the questions, and at the end, the man slides a form and a pen towards him. A lemniscate comes into view and Howon grabs the pen, finds his grasp on it surprisingly steady and he looks at his own face, printed on paper, staring back at him.

He takes in the thick mane of hair, the distinct furrow of his eyebrows. For one second, he doesn’t recognize the man in the photo. He looks different, seems different — a completely separate person, living a completely separate life.

He bites his lip, and ducks his head, signing on the line below. He doesn’t bother reading the lengthy clause. He knows what it’s about. The man accepts the paper and pen when he pushes it back, and he mentions something about a carer but Howon is only half-listening, eyes still on the table, thoughts somewhere far away.

Did Sunggyu-hyung feel the same thing? Did hyung go through the exact same procedure? Howon wondered. He tried imagining it, Sunggyu by himself in a room like this, seeing his own face look back at him, and his name — every detail of his life printed on paper — and asking to give it all up for others, for a good cause. He tries imagining Sunggyu signing it; was his hand as steady as Howon always imagined him to be or did his hand shake and tremble, unsure about the choices he had to make for himself?

He figures it’s a question he’ll never find answered, and he nods to the man as Howon is gifted an artificial smile. A set of documents are pressed into his hands and he knows it’s the standard set: a complimentary brochure of the donation program, its history and successes; the hospitals he’ll soon be visiting (and staying in) and the contact details of his carer.

He doesn’t bother opening it then, he’ll have time later in the Colonies. He’ll have time, alone in his room, Dongbae and Minhwa blessedly and solemnly keeping to themselves.

Sunggyu absent.

Myungsoo gone.

∞

It was Sunggyu’s voice.

Then, in his prepubescent years, on the cusp of puberty, Howon wondered how and when he started finding himself attracted to Sunggyu. He’s known Sunggyu (and Myungsoo) far longer than his other classmates, and the two others had become constant fixtures in his life — something like brothers, like family. He had thought it would be Jiyeon and her prettiness, or maybe even Jongin and their shared love of sports and dancing. He hadn’t imagine finding himself drawn to the Sunggyu’s laughter, to his smiles or to the way he would pause and think on an answer to Mr. Nam’s questions — brows furrowed in thought, eyes looking far and Howon would feel himself tremble with something _fond_ , something far bigger and brighter than he could ever reckon feeling, in the way the afternoon light would hit Sunggyu’s gaze, dark brown glowing a molten-ocher.

Yet, it wasn’t that picturesque sight that pulled the rug under Howon. No, it was something different, far more common, something he’d grown used to.

It was almost close to supper, and Howon could hear the chatter from the dining hall. The kitchen staff were preparing the meals and setting the tables, and many of the students were already coming in, taking their seats.

He sits on the bench, next to Myungsoo and smiles at the other.

“Where’s hyung?” Myungsoo shrugs, looking around. Howon followed suit, taking in the teachers at the head table, to the other students in their respective seats. A bright, cheery flame danced in the fireplace, sending tendrils of warmth into the hall.

“I’ll check the dorm.” Howon says, standing up. Myungsoo nods, telling him to hurry.

He’s climbing the steps, his footfalls strangely heavy against the wooden floors, echoing in the silent hall. Howon stops, hand on the doorknob to their dormitories, silent as a honeyed-voice croons into the quiet. It’s Sunggyu, his back to the door, and Howon takes in the slope of his shoulders, the length of his neck and the slow rise of his chest as he breathes, singing one more bar and Howon feels his heart beat faster, and he doesn’t want to make a noise.

He doesn’t want to break this, to have Sunggyu stop singing, sweet and warm and Howon swears, he could drown in Sunggyu’s voice, tumbling over and over with each sung verse.

∞

He remembers calling Sunggyu for supper, and the other jumps in surprise at seeing him. Across the bench, over the food, Howon notes the faint red on his hyung’s face, occasionally avoiding his eyes. He doesn’t think anything’s changed, but he feels like everything took a spin in the seconds he’s spent looking into molten-ocher eyes.

∞

When he awakens, his eyes meet white.

He blinks, uneasy at the expanse of so much white, and he feels a dulled sort of pain on his lower stomach. Howon doesn’t move though, as slips and cuts of recent memories — like haphazardly edited film — flicker into his thoughts and he resigns to just breathing, letting his eyes acclimate to the brightness.

Exhaustion chases him at the edge of awareness, and he closes his eyes, relieved at the absence of light. He falls into a light slumber, and when a nurse barges into the room, Howon blinks himself awake.

The nurse’s eyes, the only parts of her face he could see from under the mask, meets his gaze and they share a look, for a mere second, before she looks away to check on the heart monitor standing next to his bed. He looks away, somehow feeling ashamed — he knows he shouldn’t, this was for a good cause after all, but he feels himself inwardly cringing away from her cold dismissal. She doesn’t say anything, they never do, and Howon doesn’t know if the numbers on the machine meant he was in good condition or not because they simply never bothered to tell him. The nurse writes something on her case, and she’s turning away, walking back to the door.

He doesn’t know where he finds the strength, or why he even bothered, but he ventures out anyway. In a small, thin voice, he calls out. “Is…anyone—?”

She doesn’t stop, doesn’t even waver. The almost silent click of the doorknob is answer enough.

Howon finds it harder to breathe after, feeling alone and cold in the quiet room, the beeping of the monitor keeping him awake the entire night.

∞

“Who are you gonna do it with?” He asks, a bit distracted, looking at the makeshift game Jiyong had started across the shade they were sitting under. It was another hot day, and Howon couldn’t find it in himself to join the soccer game, relishing the coolness under the shadows. Myungsoo raises his head, silently, and looks at them and Howon looks back. He doesn’t say anything, finding himself silent with the way Myungsoo’s gaze is introspective.

The younger student doesn’t answer, and Howon is fine with that. For some reason, the lack of an answer is almost comforting.

“Do what?” Sunggyu drawled, hands unfortunately free of a Walkman, lying on the grass, looking up at the trees. Howon spares him a glance, taken with the sunlight peeking through the leaves and leaving shadows on Sunggyu’s face. The other turns to him, and something in the way his hyung looks at Howon makes him want to crawl over and take in Sunggyu’s face in his hands. He hopes his face is not as flustered as he feels.

“You know,” Howon continues, and a part of him is annoyed that he’s asking this and another part is annoyed as to why he is even asking in the first place. “who are you gonna have sex with? Your first time?”

That morning, a classmate had loudly chatted about how Jongin and Jiyeon were caught by Mr. Jang, almost about to do it, and Howon’s mind had went to a lot of places, down curiousity as his schoolmate’s words revolved and resounded in his head, looking at Sunggyu’s back during history.

Myungsoo makes a noise, and Howon turns to him, and sees the younger avoiding his gaze. Howon thinks to himself — Myungsoo’s always silent, and although he did occasionally speak — Howon’s taken to watching the other whenever Myungsoo doesn’t notice him. He doesn’t point the question to Myungsoo, he knows that the other would just blush and feign silence and ignorance but most of all, Howon doesn’t ask because he doesn’t want to hear an answer.

His attraction to Sunggyu, his charm — it’s different. Myungsoo was something completely familiar, and Howon found that familiarity warm.

Sunggyu makes an off-colour remark, something about his hand and his first time, and normally Howon would laugh and snicker at his hyung’s nonchalant penchant for lewd humor. Howon doesn’t really feel like laughing, though, a little distracted by Myungsoo’s hair swaying in the wind, features constantly pale even under the sunlight. He reaches a hand out and smacks Sunggyu on the head, hears a faint grumble of annoyance but Howon’s heart is not in it.

He doesn’t know how to deal with the feelings inside him. He regrets asking the question in the first place.

∞

When Sunggyu kisses him the day they graduate, Howon closes his eyes and kisses back. He holds the older man’s arms and pushes back. When they pull away, Sunggyu is smiling brilliantly at him — Howon smiles back, wondering his smile is just as brilliant. Sunggyu looks away, maybe in a rare show of shyness, and Howon catches Myungsoo’s wide eyes.

He should be happy, he knows that. Howon knows that.

He doesn’t know why he has to tell himself that, though.

∞

 

His second donation is in four months’ time.

It’s in a small city, by the south. Daegu.

Howon’s a little excited. He’s never been to the south. He’s never been anywhere outside Seoul and the Colonies.

The trip takes only two hours, on a bullet train, and Howon rests his head against the cabin’s window, watching buildings, trees and everything familiar rush by. He likes the feeling, of seeing things rush by at high-speed while he is frozen in stasis. The road signs run by, quickly until they become a blur and Howon lets himself look out, lets himself wonder. He lets his thoughts free.

For a moment of weakness, he lets himself think and remember.

He wonders where Sunggyu is right now. He wonders if the man has started donating, if he was on his second or third. He wonders if Sunggyu did the same, pressed his own face against the glass window and watch the world run past him. A thought runs across his memories and Howon lets out a breath as the weight on his chest intensifies. He wonders if Sunggyu’s complete…if he’s done his job. The thought is disheartening and sickening and Howon closes his eyes for a moment, willing himself to breathe.

He remembers a quieter part of their group and Howon blinks away the tears, eyes glazed. Myungsoo had left the day after Sunggyu had gone, packed his things in a bag and disappeared and Howon didn’t know it was possible to have two parts of his world gone in an instant.

∞

 

“Myungsoo, please.” He asks — no, _pleads_ — as the other puts his bag down by the foot of the staircase. Dongbae and Minhwa are absent, and Howon doesn’t really care where they are right now. Not when Myungsoo was leaving.

He stands by the dining table, putting the plate on the mat. It was Myungsoo’s plate. He was just finished preparing breakfast, wanting to be near his friend, feeling incredibly alone and broken in Sunggyu’s wake. He had spent the entire night awake, eyes on the living room ceiling as he tried to sleep. He didn’t want to go into his room — the one he shared with Sunggyu — not wanting to get into another fight, even when Sunggyu had flat out told him they’ve broken up.

Howon didn’t take it to heart, knowing the man was just as broken at meeting his Possible, or at the person who looked like Sunggyu’s Possible.

He had fallen asleep sometime, and when he had awakened, Sunggyu was gone.

And now, Myungsoo was leaving.

Howon doesn’t know what to do with his hands, there was a crunching, tightening grasp in his chest and he struggled to stand. His legs felt incredibly weak all of a sudden, and he doesn’t know if he wants to fall to the floor or crawl all the way to Myungsoo and hold on to him.

“Myungsoo…”

Because Myungsoo wasn’t supposed to leave. Myungsoo was supposed to _stay_. He was supposed to be the familiarity in a situation Howon found himself lost in. Myungsoo was supposed to hold him in place, a constant fixture in his life. Sunggyu was thunder and lightning and losing him left Howon heartbroken and empty. Myungsoo was all he had left. “Please stay. _Please_.”

He’s never asked for anything more than he did at that moment. He knows he’s not been a good friend lately, he knows that inherently. He knows it in the way Myungsoo would bow out of the way in their little group, knows it in the way his friend had gone ever so silent in the last few weeks at the Colonies, knows it in the way Myungsoo is alone as he looks from the outside, into the smaller circle he’s formed with Sunggyu.

He didn’t know he had ousted Myungsoo out of his life, out of _their_ life. All this time, he had told himself — they were still the same, they were still that one group. All three of them, friends for life. Friends forever.

He wants to say sorry, he wants to apologize and beg for Myungsoo’s forgiveness but he can’t. He doesn’t know. The words are trite and dead sounding on his lips, and Howon doesn’t know how to say them anyway — not through the world’s gravity crushing his chest.

Myungsoo’s shoulders tremble, and Howon closes his eyes, not wanting to see the other cry. Not wanting to realize how important Myungsoo was before he lost him.

He grasps at nothing, holds on to air.

When he opens his eyes, tears staining the edges, Myungsoo is gone.

∞

There is a nurse in the surgical ward of Daegu Specialist Hospital. Her name is Eunji, and her bright smile reminds him of a more peaceful time, a time without regrets, a time of innocence. She is known for her smile, ever bright and always generous. Howon feels blinded the first time she gifted him with that smile.

He can’t remember the last time someone looked at him and saw a person instead of a bag of organs.

“Just taking a little blood,” she says, smiling at him. Howon nods, doesn’t even notice the needle piercing his skin, taken with her easy charm and the knowledge that she sees _him,_ Howon, and not just as another donor.

He doesn’t notice the syringe filling up with red, and doesn’t notice when she takes it out, capping the needle and putting it back on the tray she brought with her. She cleans up after herself and Howon blinks as she smiles at him again.

And blinks again when she brandishes a lollipop into his face.

“Wh—um, what?” He asks, confused, looking at the lollipop. She continues to smile.

“It’s for you, for being a brave boy.” She smiles again, and Howon is confused at her words. Boy? He’s twenty-six years old. He doesn’t think “boy” is the right term to describe him, or what he’s lived through. Still confused, Howon remains silent and Eunji grasps his hand and places the lollipop in his hand.

“I was assigned at the Pediatric ward before you got here,” She says, and she presses his fingers close over the lollipop. She looks back at him and smiles. “The boys there don’t like getting shots, and they’re always afraid when I have to do it.”

There’s a small wry edge to her smile. “It’s funny. I became a nurse to help people, and kids are scared of me.”

Unbidden, Howon responds. “I’m not. Scared. I’m not scared.”

Eunji cocks her head, and her smile turns small. “Everyone gets scared sometimes. It doesn’t make you any less of a human.”

And maybe it’s because she uses that word. Human. A person. Someone with feelings, with a past, with a history. Someone who laughed, who cried, who smiled — a person who made mistakes, felt good when he did good, loved to play sports; someone who missed another, someone with regrets; someone who lays awake at night, scared and alone – desperate for a tiny sliver of comfort; someone who looks at a mother and her child and wonders how it would feel like to have that: to have someone he can call “mom”, have someone take care of him, be proud of him, hug him when he’s sad and kissed him on the forehead before he slept.

He doesn’t respond, looks away as every bitter feeling he’s felt rise to his throat, and he chokes on his own emotions. Eunji doesn’t leave, and if she notices the trembling of his lips or the cries he’s biting to keep inside of him, she doesn’t say anything.

And maybe, just maybe, Howon loves her for that little thing.

∞

It’s the day before his operation and Eunji is sitting on the chair next to his bed. The ward is empty, save for him and the nurse, and the television fills the silence pleasantly.

She’s running a commentary on the drama being played out on the television and Howon finds it amusing, how she deconstructs every little thing, every nuanced trope, every recycled plot and Howon recalls a different time, an equally annoyed voice arguing on literature and drama.

His next donation would be a little different compared to his first — a kidney transplant — this next one would partition a segment of his brain, cutting into a part where memory and retention lay and he knows this, by heart and by text. The doctor had discussed this with him — if discussing meant the doctor reading off his notes and Howon numbly nodding to his words. Eunji had been with him right after, holding his hand and walking him through the procedure.

She was brilliant, exceptionally so — it was a waste for her to be confined as a nurse, in this small city, far from where her intellect could shine. He told her so.

She frowns, looking at him in askance, upper lip raised in fake disgust. “I’m not into that, thanks. I’d rather be here, where I can help people — especially big boys that are afraid of needles.”

Howon wants to say that he’s not afraid, but he doesn’t, allows himself to be amused at Eunji’s teasing. She’s walked him through the procedure, and Howon decides when she’s taken to arguing about the choice of actor playing the main role.

“Hey, Eunji…”

She turns, still a little irritated from the drama. “Yeah?”

He doesn’t know how to start, doesn’t even know how to even ask if she was okay with it. He even finds it surprising that he feels somewhat calm, knowing the surgery will be on the next day — or maybe he’s afraid, or he’s just gotten used to being so afraid that he finds it normal now. He doesn’t really want to reflect on those things, just wants to cherish this moment for now. He doesn’t know if he’ll make it through tomorrow, or if he’ll complete (and he doesn’t tell Eunji about how he feels slightly excited at the thought of completing).

Howon has a thousand ideas in his head, but he’s always been a little short-footed on how to go about these things. He surprises himself when he slowly starts out.

“My name is Lee Howon. I’m twenty-six years old, and I’m from Woollim. I have two friends…no, three friends. Their names are Kim Sunggyu, Kim Myungsoo and Jung Eunji. Tomorrow, I’ll be taken in for brain surgery and if I make it, my memory may not be the same after. I hope I can still remember you, Sunggyu and Myungsoo after. I really hope so.”

Eunji is silent, just looks at him with understanding and patience. Howon exhales, and pledges his life for Eunji to remember.

∞

He tells her everything.

He tells her about his childhood days at Woollim; tells her about meeting Sunggyu and Myungsoo; tells her about days spent on the fields, chasing and running and playing. He tells her every little detail he can remember, the way the grass smelled, the taste of the porridge that he detests but Myungsoo likes, the crinkles by the corners of Mr. Nam’s eyes when he would smile. He tells her every memory he can: the first time he was asked to recite in front of class, the first time he got detention, the first time he cried, pressing his cheek into Myungsoo’s back and his hand holding Sunggyu’s tight as he wakes up from a nightmare. Every little thing, every trivial detail that to anyone else, to anyone who had the luxury of time, would mean next to nothing but meant everything to him. He was a man out of time, out of chances. The only thing he had now were memories.

Memories of the way Sunggyu’s lips tasted, the sound of his cries and moans as Howon pushed into him, the whispered words of love and affection after their first time of sex. Memories of Myungsoo’s silence, his every little quirk and nuance, every dimpled smile and flushed face, the way he looked so serious when he was acting, how each character he played came to life and, in the audience, Howon couldn’t look away, eyes on their silent friend — and for that one moment, he was brilliant, as brilliant as Sirius above — and he begs Eunji to remember:

Every name, every emotion, every memory he could attach to them, to who he was — he was Lee Howon: he was a _human being_ , he had loved, had cried and fought. He had made mistakes, had regrets and had went on living.

Eunji is silent, remains silent and open and accepting and how uncannily similar she was to Myungsoo, as she holds Howon’s hand, her silence promising to remember him, as day turned to night, seconds turned to hours and Howon’s time started counting down to zero.

∞

He makes it through, and when he opens his eyes, a nurse is standing by his bed. She has a pretty smile, and her eyes are kind. Her nametag reads “Jung Eunji” and, for a moment, he feels something brush the surface of his thoughts before he closes his eyes, returning to sleep.

 

In the following weeks, he remembers.

His name is Lee Howon. He is twenty-six years old, from Woollim. He has two, no, three friends. Their names are Kim Sunggyu, Kim Myungsoo and Jung Eunji. He’s a person, and he remembers.

∞

 

Chance, and fate, can sometimes be finicky.

Howon thinks this, when he looks over and his gaze covers the expanse of Sunggyu’s cheek, still pressed against Myungsoo’s pantleg, asleep. The sound of the Busan sea is comforting, the crash of the waves a calming lull in the background. The sand around his feet had grown dry and sticky, but he doesn’t mind. He just turns his head, eyes raking in over every crevice and slope of Myungsoo’s features.

 A year. A year since he last had this, had all of them together. Back in his arms.

“What?” Myungsoo asks, voice deep and curious. He’s grown less silent now, Howon notices, and he takes in the dark hair brushed neatly, the smoothness of his cheeks and that small smile — dimpled, open, accepting. _Familiar._

Howon shakes his head, and he feels fingers tread lightly across his nape then up to his head. Myungsoo is looking at the fine hairs growing back on his head, and he feels Myungsoo’s fingers feel through the sharp strands and Howon feels warm and content, wishing nothing more than to close his eyes and freeze time — hold on to the gravity of who they were, are, and could ever be.

Myungsoo’s fingers reach the healing incision and Howon is reminded of reality. The smile on Myungsoo’s lips grows wry and cynical, and Howon doesn’t like seeing that. He leans forward and rests his forehead on Myungsoo’s shoulders, breathing in his scent.

This time, he’ll hold on to them.

This time, he won’t let go.

∞

The white fluorescent lights overhead are flashing. Funny, Howon thinks, it feels like he’s been in this situation all his life. White fluorescent lights, sterile walls and gurneys — slowly, they’ve become fixtures, tendrils and hooks into his life and Howon just finds it amusing. For some people, this would not be the case. For some others, this would be a rare situation. For Howon, it almost seems like it’s his entire life.

But, it’s not. It’s a big part of his life, yes, but not the entirety of it.

He knows, because he’s _lived_.

A small part of him, deep inside, is pained at the thought of leaving Myungsoo alone but that part is small in the grand scheme of things. He hopes, he really does, that Myungsoo gets to live. He really does. They’ve all gotten so little a chance to live, to exist and be someone else.

He finally understands Myungsoo’s fascination with drama, and he recalls Sunggyu’s words and he smiles. He did that — he’s lived a different life, and if his occasionally faulty memory is any indication, he’s created his own path in this world.

The overhead strobe lights over take everything and Howon sees everything else fade to white. There’s chatter around, the sound of instruments and steel utensils being moved and prepared, but he ignores it.

A memory comes to the forefront of his thoughts — complete, and unbidden — and Howon blinks and lets himself awash with a time long gone.

“Sirius, hyung.” Myungsoo says, pointing to the sky and Howon looks up. There’s a huge blanket of stars and Howon doesn’t really know which one Myungsoo is pointing at. They all honestly look the same to him. But the younger student is excited, his eyes bright under the moonlight, and it’s rare enough that Myungsoo gets this excited. Howon smiles to himself and moves closer to the other, hands on the cold grass.

“That’s really cool.” Howon lies, not really seeing what was so fascinating about one star in a field of many, but it’s worth it: to see Myungsoo look back at him in joy and happiness. Over his head, Sunggyu looks at them and Howon shares a look with him: he knows that his hyung doesn’t see it, too, but they’re all letting Myungsoo ride by their interest.

It’s Myungsoo, after all.

“So you’ll always find your way home.” Myungsoo whispers, and Howon breaks away from Sunggyu’s gaze to look at the younger. A fleet of emotions run across the younger’s face, and Howon doesn’t know what to make of them, but he does notice the faraway look in Myungsoo’s eyes, the wide dreaming gaze as the stars are reflected across his eyes. He doesn’t know what Myungsoo is thinking, but Howon can’t help but notice the almost peaceful air around their friend, and he relents to never knowing at all. He’s fine with that.

Howon never expected to understand the words when he’s reached the end of his line.

A kiss shared between friends on the day of graduation. The shape of Myungsoo’s shoulders as he leaves the Colonies. The sad smile on Sunggyu’s lips, after a year. The sound of the Busan sea. The taste of Myungsoo’s lips, locked in a kiss, in grief and in longing.

A pale hand pointed upwards, to home.

When the anesthesia starts setting in, and he feels his lids grow heavier, the image of that night so many years ago overlapping with an equally similar one, just week ago,  the strobe lights grow dim as the darkness seeps in from the corners. He doesn’t fight the sleep claiming him, and when only one faint dot of light remains in his vision, Howon understands.

Sirius.

 _“So you’ll always find your way home,” Myungsoo whispers._ He’s home now, in his memories and at the end of everything.

Howon smiles.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I felt that writing through Myungsoo in HTG gave me a slate to create the world in the fic; here, I felt that I humanized Howon and gave him a bit more life?? or character into him compared to the way I did Myungsoo's. Or at least I thought I did. Oh well. :)
> 
> As always, I love comments and discussion (not just on the characters, but even on little things like typos and sentence construction) :D


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